


Hold My Drank

by CountryDoctor



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Conflict Without Plot, M/M, NO SHAME HERE, Snark, Sorry Not Sorry, Star Trek: AOS, mckirk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountryDoctor/pseuds/CountryDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy, Kirk and Spock are enjoying a night out when McCoy unknowingly runs into an old friend.  Read and see what unfolds.</p><p>This a McKirk story based on a AO3 Fan Art piece that was posted on a Tumblr blog called "Double Dumbass On You."</p><p>Beta by AKO</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Drank

          McCoy walked from the bar counter, holding a mint julep. It was his fourth one within an hour, but who was counting?  He usually ordered bourbon here at the Corner Pocket, but he wasn’t in the mood to get too shitfaced tonight. Mint juleps were a soft drink as far as he was concerned. 

         The doctor sighed as he nudged his way through crowds of strangers, trying not to slop too much liquid out of the glass.  The barroom was packed with crowds, their exposed skin was sticky with sweat as he bumped and prodded his way through.  McCoy hated being surrounded at all corners—especially by people who were who were drunker than he was. Humidity and booze never mixed very well and somebody was bound to lose their temper sooner rather than later.  With the annual San Fran Carnivalle this weekend, it was a given that cadets would behave like horses’s asses—and he didn’t want to deal with that on his time off, for Christ’s sake!

         It was Jim’s idea to come to the Corner Pocket on a Friday night.  He liked going to Carnivalle every year and always tried to drag McCoy and Spock along.  The doctor hoped the hobgoblin would argue the idea out of Jim’s head by pointing out how “illogical” participating in such craziness would be for all involved.  Of course, all Jimmy had to do was give McCoy that damned irresistible “Puppy Dog” look.  Now he was in a crowded bar, mumbling apologies to almost every customer he ran into.

         It seemed like most of them were Starfleet Academy professors in civvies celebrating the demise of the spring semester.  McCoy recognized some of them from his academy days.  He was reminded of the long nights of studying in the medical library and shuddered.  _I don’t miss those days at all_ , McCoy mused to himself.

         His mouth quirked when he reached the screen door separating the barroom from the patio area.  The heat and the humidity weren’t as oppressive and McCoy’s heartbeat steadied when a breeze caressed his face.  He pressed his left palm against the door and pushed it open slightly when he caught movement to his far left.

       Ordinarily, he’d dismiss it, but this group was rowdy and loud, even for a bar.  The group was sitting a bench near the pool table and the doctor had to strain his eyes to get a good look at the man in the middle of the small entourage.  There was something about the group’s ringleader that caught his attention.   His wispy, dishwater blond hair, dark straight eyebrows and colorless features were all scraping at a memory McCoy couldn’t initially recover.  Then the man threw his head back and cackled at a pitch so high McCoy’s teeth hurt.  Suddenly, it dawned on him.  That laugh belonged to one person:

       Sean Finnegan. 

 _That son of a bitch._ Finnegan lowered his head and looked straight at the doctor, as though he had heard his thoughts. McCoy ground his teeth as Finnegan grinned.  McCoy stormed off onto the patio.  The night hadn’t even started and _already_ some shit was about to go down.

                                                                                                    *****

      Jim lifted the bottle of Magic Hat to his lips and chugged half the bottle in three swallows. The _Enterprise_ was his home, but after the grueling week he had, he needed a break.  Fortunately, this was the Carnivalle weekend and he knew exactly who was coming with him. Jim refused the “illogical” argument from Spock and the agoraphobia card from Bones.   Finally, the Vulcan and the doctor caved—especially Bones after Jim used his secret “cute boyfriend” weapon: the “Puppy Dog” face.

     Jim’s eyes sparkled and he set down the beer bottle when he saw his boyfriend walk out the door to the patio.  Bones’s clenched jaw and accompanying scowl caused Jim’s smile to die.  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jim asked worriedly, his gaze following McCoy’s movements.

    McCoy dropped heavily in the chair across from Jim.  “Guess who I saw just now?”

   “Vulcans do not ‘guess,’ Doctor,” Spock announced stoically. “It is highly illogical to provide an informed response to your inquiry without evidences.”

    “And seeing that everybody pisses you off, Bones, we wouldn’t have enough fingers to count,” Jim chuckled, a half smile shaping his mouth. “C’mon, Man.  I’m a little too tipsy for guessing games. Who is it this time?”

    “The Rat Bastard.” He reached out and plucked a thin blade of grass from a nearby planter.  The root disappeared into his mouth and he began chewing on it.  The others were used to this quirk:  Bones always found a bit of grass, a piece of straw, a stalk of hay to chew on when he was pissed.  And right now, he was definitely pissed. 

     Jim’s eyes grew wide. “Christ…are you serious?”

    “Yeah.  Asshole was cacklin’ with his gang of fools over in the corner a couple of minutes ago.”

     Spock’s raised an eyebrow.  “I beg your pardon?”

     Jim sighed and leaned back in his chair.  “He’s referring to Sean Finnegan, Spock.”

     The Vulcan raised a second eyebrow to match the first one.  “Sean Finnegan. The commander of the _USS Skylark_ , I presume.”

     “Commander, my ass,” McCoy grumbled.  “He shouldn’t’ve _graduated_ , let alone become the captain of his own fuckin’ ship.”

     Jim lifted his drink off the table. “Bones and Finnegan took some classes together while at the Academy,” he explained to Spock.   “Finnegan’s known for pulling practical jokes and he constantly tortured underclassmen—Bones included.”

    “He and I were interning on the _USS Washington_ ,” the doctor added while chewing on his blade.  “He was assigned to the captain and was always in Sickbay because he was fuckin’ one of the nursing students.”  He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, becoming more engrossed in his story.  “We were well-stocked with medication, including Carbotizon, which is a powerful narcotic.  To make a long story short, Rat Bastard started a rumor about me stealin’ Carbotizon from the ship’s medical supplies and sellin’ it to other cadets on campus.”

     “Spock, Finnegan had cadets coming to our dorm at oh-dark-thirty asking for ‘Silky.’” While speaking the word “Silky,” Jim curved his fingers into air quotes.

     “Turns out _I’m_ Silky!” McCoy pointed a thumb at himself.

      “So _you_ are the so-called infamous narcotics distributor my students mentioned,” Spock finally spoke, his brows disappearing behind his bangs. The Vulcan’s crossed arms rested on his chest as a faint smile quirked his mouth.  “You are considered quite legendary in the Science Department.”

      “Yeah, well,” McCoy huffed as he perched himself up slightly with his elbows, “that tall tale almost got me booted out of the Academy.  It spread like wildfire across campus and it reached the Commandant.  An investigation was launched, I was temporarily suspended from the Starfleet Medical Academy and removed from my internship.  Eventually, Finnegan ‘fessed up, but only ‘cause his dorm mate ratted him out.”

       Spock’s smile faded and he canted his head slightly to the side. “And what were the repercussions for Cadet  Finnegan?”

       “Nothin’ that stuck obviously ‘cause he’s a Commander ,” the doctor scoffed. 

       “Plus his father, Connor, is an influential civilian contractor to the Starfleet Command School,” Jim sighed.  “So you can trust that Finnegan’s safe.”

        “I’m a contract my foot to his ass if he comes back here.  No joke.”  McCoy lifted his Mint Julep and emptied half the glass.  The ice has melted, which only added to the doctor’s irritability.  

       “Look, Bones,” said Jim while resting his hand gently on McCoy’s shoulder. “We don’t have to stay here.  We can walk around if you need to cool off.”  His eyes radiated warmth and concern.

       McCoy put his glass down and shook his head.  He didn’t want to ruin his boyfriend’s night out because of one of his old grudges.  “No, Darlin, I’m fine.” the doctor smiled weakly. “It’s just that seein’ Finnegan again got me all riled up.  I’m sorry.”

      “No worries,” replied the young captain, a faint smile ghosting his lips.  “You’re pissed and you have every right to be, Baby.  He nearly fucked you up.”  Jim remembered the day when Bones was told that he had to leave the Academy until the investigation was completed.    Meanwhile, he couldn’t attend classes or continue his internship on the _Washington_.  Yeah, Bones was broken up then, but it brought the two of them closer.  What Finnegan did indirectly resulted in them falling in love. But Jim also wanted nothing more than to see Bones put that bastard’s head through a wall.

       “Finnegan and his cohorts have just entered the patio area,” Spock announced evenly, “I calculate there is a ninety-seven point one percent probability of his group occupying the table adjacent to us.  Therefore, I highly recommend, Doctor, that you practice restraint.”

       Three pairs of eyes focused on the patio door.  Sure enough, the cocky Irishman and his friends walked outside, heading towards the empty table Spock had identified. McCoy barely met Finnegan’s eyes before turning to look at his partner in an attempt to bring himself under control.  He lifted his glass to his lips in the hope that the watery dregs would wash away the dryness in his throat.

       Finnegan and his group sat at the table, just as the hobgoblin predicted.  The Irishman made sure his chair was the one closest to McCoy.  The irritating cackle irritated the living goddamn out of the man.

 _Remain calm, Doctor,_ advised the Vulcan telepathically.  _The Captain intentionally occupied the chair beside you to create tension. Do not, as you humans say, “give him the satisfaction.”_

 _I’m trying, Hobgoblin_ , McCoy directed to his telepathic friend.  He didn’t appreciate Spock creeping into his mind like that, but if it helped him from nailing Finnegan in the face…

     “Hey, Lenny Boy,” chimed Finnegan.  “I didn’t see ya there!  How’s life after th’ Academy?”

      McCoy concentrated on Spock while Jim’s hand remained on his left shoulder.  He spat out his blade of grass as his grip tightened around his drink.  “Don’t start with me, Finnegan,” he muttered through clenched teeth. 

     “Start what?” the Irishman asked, feigning  innocence.  “I’m only tryin’ t’ have a conversation wit’ an old friend.”

 _You are no friend of mine, Asshole,_ McCoy thought.

      “With all due respect, Captain,” Jim interjected a little sharply, “I think it’s best you leave the Doctor alone right now.”

      “Please note, Captain Finnegan,” Spock interposed, “that Doctor McCoy’s expression is a clear indicator of his disinterest in engaging in social conversation.”

      “As I said,” Finnegan said with an even bigger, more insincere grin. “I’m just talkin.’  No harm done, Gentlemen.”

      “Sure, Finnegan,” dismissed Jim with an eyeroll.   “Look, it’s the first night of Carnivalle and we’re here to have to good time.  So, let’s not have any problems.”

      “I got this, Jim,” McCoy finally spoke, looking at his partner.  "‘Cause if he gets outta hand with any of us, a problem’s what we’re gonna have.”

      “What’s all this about?”

      “You know damn well what this is about, Finnegan,” the doctor growled, now glaring intensely at the Irishman.  “Your little prank jeopardized my career. I coulda had a felony on my record!”

      “Oh!” nodded Finnegan, his eyes widening in mock shock.  “You’re still pissed off about that nonsense some years back?”  He pointed his finger at the doctor and winked. “Now _that_ was legendary, Lenny Boy.  I made a name for meself wit’ that one.”

      That did it.   “Well, I’m gonna make a name for myself when I _finally_ break my foot off in your ass!” Mint julep still in hand, McCoy knocked over his chair and wound up inches from the Irishman’s face.   Jim and Spock immediately stood up, their eyes fastened on Finnegan and his crew.

      Finnegan didn’t make captain by playing nice with the other boys and girls.  He wasn’t about to let some Yank doctor knock him down over a prank he pulled years back. “So _now_ y’ get y’ knickers in a twist about it?  It happened.  It’s a chapter in th’ history books.  Besides, ya graduated and al’ tha’ happy horse shite, so in me mind, it’s not worth losin’ y’ head.  Get over it.”

      “Get o—you start a rumor that almost got me kicked outta the Academy and _you_ have the fuckin’ balls to tell me to get over it?!” 

Finnegan chuckled, looking McCoy up and down scornfully. “You’re pissed because I had th’ edge over ya,” the Irishman said.

     “You know what?”  McCoy grumbled.  “Don’t make me put my fuckin’ drink down.”

     “Why?  So y’don’t have t’ suck me bitch-bag an’ get on?”  Finnegan's friends chuckled at his insult.

      The doctor snapped.  He travelled to Ireland in his younger years and he knew _exactly_ what that meant.  “ _Bitch-bag?!_ I gotcha bitch-bag right here!  Jim!!  Hold my drank!!” McCoy, not caring whether his boyfriend had a firm grip on the glass, released his mint julep. He then crashed his fist against the Irishman’s nose.  The satisfying crunch let him know it was broken.  He was a doctor, after all.

     “Fuck’im up, Baby!”  Jim yelled, holding McCoy’s mint julep.  “Break his shit!”  Finnegan cupped his hands over his face, the blood running through his fingers as his buddies rushed around their table to intervene.  Jim threw McCoy’s drink onto the concrete, shattering the glass.  He cursed loudly as he pushed over the table to reach McCoy.  The good doctor had one Finnegan’s buddies in a headlock while beating the hell out of his skull. 

      Meanwhile, Spock stood in position, disappointed at this pathetic display of human emotion.    However, he could not continue to stand idly as delinquents attempted to inflict bodily harm onto his two companions.  He sighed and moved towards the dispute. 

      Spock vowed to remain on the _Enterprise_ next year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
